|Disclaimer: See other chapters for a full disclaimer.|
|Author's Note: Just a sidelong note that, if at any point in this chapter, things seem a bit . . . odd, its because I'm listening to the Two Towers soundtrack, and although some songs are quite angsty, the action ones get me excited, and things may jump around. Just a warning.|
----~----
"Are you ready yet?" Squall's voice reverberated around the near-empty apartment, although his heart wasn't in the coldness that the words suggested. He was far too nervous about the night that lay ahead of him, what with seeing a show - which he hadn't done in quite some time - and being with Yuffie. Just the mere thought of her made him lower his head and try and relax, try not to think about her. He yanked unhappily at the collar of his button-up white shirt, not liking these things at all and much preferring a plain T-shirt. He had also tried to wangle wearing his leather jacket, although Yuffie had put her foot on that and insisted he borrow a blazer from Cloud, which he scowled at in the bathroom mirror. He ran a thumb over the fading cut on his cheek, and then a forefinger over the scar between his eyes, tensing slightly at feeling the rigged skin.
"Yes, Mr. Impatient!" Yuffie shouted back exasperatedly, although a fit of giggles afterwards said that she didn't mean it. He took a deep breath to calm himself. Don't think about what she's wearing, don't think about what she's wearing, don't think ab -
He stopped in mid-thought, taking a step back as Yuffie glared playfully at him. Her short black hair framed her face perfectly, drawing attention to the navy blue ribbon tied around her neck, down to the simple, yet elegant, black dress that stopped just short of her knees. However, she didn't fear being cold; a pair of boots rose to just below the knees, making her only an inch shorter than him, when usually she'd be at around his chin or shoulders. She pivoted slowly, giggling at his look of sheer surprise, showing him the laced back.
"Well, Captain Obvious, I see that you like it," she giggled, taking quick note of the fact that he looked a lot more professional without the leather jacket and twenty belts.
"H-how do you expect to go into a Broadway show with clunky boots like those?" he snapped, trying to gather his callous attitude back but failing miserably. She waved the question aside impatiently, grabbing her wallet off of the coffee table and handing it to him.
"You've got pockets, and I don't. Also, I'm not going in like everyone else carrying one of those stupid armpit purses," she explained at his look of confusion, and pointed seriously at the wallet, although her eyes were focused on him. "Be careful with that; the tickets are in there."
"Whatever," he mumbled, tucking it into his inside jacket pocket. "Well . . . uh . . ." Yuffie raised an eyebrow at him; what did he want to say now? He couldn't be any less romantic already, so she had to assume that it was something -
"You look . . . really nice. Beautiful, I mean beautiful," he stammered, tripping over his words and refusing to meet her eyes. She smiled broadly, which only made him blush. Reaching out, she grasped his wrist and tugged him towards the door.
"I can tell that it's going to be a good night, don't you?" she asked excitedly as they scrambled down the huge flights of stairs. He took note of the stars glimmering in a crisp, clear sky through an open window, and smiled slightly, despite himself.
"Yeah," he agreed quietly. "It's going to be a good night."
----~----
"Shove over, Cloud, I can't see anything!" Aerith hissed, trying to push her way through the throngs of people they had carefully camouflaged themselves in across the street from the Majestic Theatre. The St. James Theatre, where The Producers was being shown, had crowds of people milling outside with tickets in hand or hoping to get standing room only. Cleverly Aerith had suggested they watch the couple from the crazy line, and Cloud had thankfully agreed, but now it didn't seem like such a good idea; they couldn't see a thing. The Majestic's line was just as busy as St. James's, and they could only see a glimpse of Yuffie and Squall.
"You think I can?" he spat back, pushing his way through triplets and fighting to get a space where the couple could be seen easier. "Wait, ahh - there!" He pointed a finger at where Squall and Yuffie were now exposed in the crowd. He squinted, trying to get a better view of them, but Aerith abruptly let out a soft squeal and clapped her hands over her mouth.
"Oh, look look look! He gave her his jacket! Its so sweeeeeet! Cloud!!" Her emerald eyes were closed in delight as she hopped up and down, and then hugged Cloud so tight that he had to peel her off of him, gasping and struggling. Once he did, she looked him up and over with a frown on her face. "Hey," she said suspiciously, tapping her chin. "You never gave me YOUR jacket!" As she advanced towards him, Cloud quickly cleared his throat and pointed roughly towards The Majestic.
"L-look! They're going in!" he said, attempting to take her wrathful gaze off of himself. She let out a girlish giggle and spun around, watching with intense eyes as they entered the theatre.
"This is so exciting!"
----~----
"This is so exciting!" Yuffie looked around with wide eyes at the opera- like curtain that flounced delicately about the stage frame and then at the balconies attached to the walls seemingly seamlessly. The mezzanine was already overrun with people, and she grasped Squall's wrist firmly as she tugged him through the rows of seats and to the left-wing orchestra. She squinted at the tickets and found the seats quick enough, pushing Squall down beside her and hopping happily into the next seat. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, as he often did when nervous, and looked around with apprehensive eyes. "I know you're not a crowd man, but this is so neat!" Yuffie leaned forward in her seat and examined what looked like baggage that was tossed around on the stage.
"Yeah, but, Yuffie . . . don't you think we're kind of . . . close?" he murmured, feeling uncomfortable with having the orchestra pit right in front of him, the very top of the conductor's head just visible. She clasped his hand excitedly, and he managed a weak smile.
"No way! This is awesome!" she said with true enjoyment in her voice, looking around at the rapidly depleting seats. Squall shook his head and thumbed through the playbill, having gotten over the curiosity of seeing just a plain white mask against black on the cover.
"Add for 'The Hours', add for Estee Lauder, add for Lord and Taylor . . . finally, the cast," he mumbled under his breath, trying not to hiss through clenched teeth as a few people made remarks about 'the girl with a man' in the front row. "Hey, Yuffie, the Phantom's Howard McGillin. Ever heard of him?" He turned to the eighteen-year-old, who had dropped her excitement and was seated tightly with her arms folded and her eyes turned down in anger. "Yuffie?" he asked hesitantly.
"Do y'hear what they're saying? They think you've abducted me or something!" she hissed at him, and he saw tears in her eyes. It took him aback, and he put a hand on her bare arm, his coat over her shoulders. She looked up at him, confused.
"Don't listen to them. They don't know what they're talking about, so ignore them. We're just fine, and you came here by your free will - well, maybe Aerith forced us into it, but besides that - so just . . . ignore them. It's alright," he said softly, and it took a moment, but she grinned up at him. And, after five seconds, she threw her arms around his neck and laughed into his hair. The people behind them let out soft sounds of shock, but Yuffie's eyes were closed in happiness, and she did not see their appalled faces.
"You know, for a minute there, you sounded like you had a heart!" she said softly, and she heard him whisper back: "Who says I don't?"
Just as Yuffie was about to respond, the lights flickered, indicating that the show would begin soon. They broke apart - both surprised to see the other move away reluctantly - and took their seats again.
The show went without a hitch - it performed spectacularly, from the music to the Phantom bopping around the stage carvings and the chandelier sparking as it rose to the ceiling, and even Squall couldn't say that he didn't enjoy it. Yuffie was bouncing around trying to recite the lyrics from Music of the Night when they exited The Majestic, and Squall was trying to restrain his yawns.
"It is twelve o'clock on a Saturday night . . . this is waaay past the time I drop off . . ." he muttered, maneuvering down West 44th Street with Yuffie clinging to his arm.
"W-wait! Squall, stop, hold on a second!" the eighteen-year-old drove her heels into the street to stop her escort just a few feet down from The Majestic, and he turned to her with an exasperated expression.
"What is it now?" he moaned, shifting both playbills into his back pants pocket since Yuffie wore his jacket. She fought to find the right words, and then gave up with a grin.
"Uh . . . I don't suppose you could bend down?" she asked hesitantly. He looked at her oddly.
"No," he responded. She huffed a bit and then realized that her boots helped a lot, and, after taking a deep breath, wrapped her arms around his neck, rose herself up on her toes, and kissed him squarely.
----~----
Finally! It's been long enough o.0 Okay, let me run something off: I did see Phantom of the Opera, but it was way back in December '02 during Christmas break, so I used my playbills, which might be out-of-date, although I don't know. But yes, everything should be fairly accurate . . . the opera curtain around the stage comes down to reveal golden carvings, the chandelier sparks and is pulled up to the ceiling, and, if you haven't guessed already, Music of the Night is my favorite song from the show. Hehe, afterwards we got to see Paul Newman coming out of Our Town, which was fun. We have his autograph on one playbill or another, somewhere . . . hmmm . . .
In case anyone's interested, these are the shows I've seen, so anything suggested from them should be fairly true:
Beauty and the Beast (for my birthday; VL! It was good, especially the ending; orchestra seats _rule_)
The Producers (with Nathan Lane and Mathew Broderick; lots of fun and Jewish humor)
The Crucible
The Phantom of the Opera
Aida
Cabaret (hmmm . . . why didn't they go see that? I dunno, that was really peppy . . .)
There you have it. Anyway, maybe one or two more chapters after this; this was sort of the climax, so to speak. And it was looong! So review! Please! I mean, it took the entire Two Towers soundtrack to write it! (on Gollum's Song, the last song, right now).
|Author's Note: Just a sidelong note that, if at any point in this chapter, things seem a bit . . . odd, its because I'm listening to the Two Towers soundtrack, and although some songs are quite angsty, the action ones get me excited, and things may jump around. Just a warning.|
----~----
"Are you ready yet?" Squall's voice reverberated around the near-empty apartment, although his heart wasn't in the coldness that the words suggested. He was far too nervous about the night that lay ahead of him, what with seeing a show - which he hadn't done in quite some time - and being with Yuffie. Just the mere thought of her made him lower his head and try and relax, try not to think about her. He yanked unhappily at the collar of his button-up white shirt, not liking these things at all and much preferring a plain T-shirt. He had also tried to wangle wearing his leather jacket, although Yuffie had put her foot on that and insisted he borrow a blazer from Cloud, which he scowled at in the bathroom mirror. He ran a thumb over the fading cut on his cheek, and then a forefinger over the scar between his eyes, tensing slightly at feeling the rigged skin.
"Yes, Mr. Impatient!" Yuffie shouted back exasperatedly, although a fit of giggles afterwards said that she didn't mean it. He took a deep breath to calm himself. Don't think about what she's wearing, don't think about what she's wearing, don't think ab -
He stopped in mid-thought, taking a step back as Yuffie glared playfully at him. Her short black hair framed her face perfectly, drawing attention to the navy blue ribbon tied around her neck, down to the simple, yet elegant, black dress that stopped just short of her knees. However, she didn't fear being cold; a pair of boots rose to just below the knees, making her only an inch shorter than him, when usually she'd be at around his chin or shoulders. She pivoted slowly, giggling at his look of sheer surprise, showing him the laced back.
"Well, Captain Obvious, I see that you like it," she giggled, taking quick note of the fact that he looked a lot more professional without the leather jacket and twenty belts.
"H-how do you expect to go into a Broadway show with clunky boots like those?" he snapped, trying to gather his callous attitude back but failing miserably. She waved the question aside impatiently, grabbing her wallet off of the coffee table and handing it to him.
"You've got pockets, and I don't. Also, I'm not going in like everyone else carrying one of those stupid armpit purses," she explained at his look of confusion, and pointed seriously at the wallet, although her eyes were focused on him. "Be careful with that; the tickets are in there."
"Whatever," he mumbled, tucking it into his inside jacket pocket. "Well . . . uh . . ." Yuffie raised an eyebrow at him; what did he want to say now? He couldn't be any less romantic already, so she had to assume that it was something -
"You look . . . really nice. Beautiful, I mean beautiful," he stammered, tripping over his words and refusing to meet her eyes. She smiled broadly, which only made him blush. Reaching out, she grasped his wrist and tugged him towards the door.
"I can tell that it's going to be a good night, don't you?" she asked excitedly as they scrambled down the huge flights of stairs. He took note of the stars glimmering in a crisp, clear sky through an open window, and smiled slightly, despite himself.
"Yeah," he agreed quietly. "It's going to be a good night."
----~----
"Shove over, Cloud, I can't see anything!" Aerith hissed, trying to push her way through the throngs of people they had carefully camouflaged themselves in across the street from the Majestic Theatre. The St. James Theatre, where The Producers was being shown, had crowds of people milling outside with tickets in hand or hoping to get standing room only. Cleverly Aerith had suggested they watch the couple from the crazy line, and Cloud had thankfully agreed, but now it didn't seem like such a good idea; they couldn't see a thing. The Majestic's line was just as busy as St. James's, and they could only see a glimpse of Yuffie and Squall.
"You think I can?" he spat back, pushing his way through triplets and fighting to get a space where the couple could be seen easier. "Wait, ahh - there!" He pointed a finger at where Squall and Yuffie were now exposed in the crowd. He squinted, trying to get a better view of them, but Aerith abruptly let out a soft squeal and clapped her hands over her mouth.
"Oh, look look look! He gave her his jacket! Its so sweeeeeet! Cloud!!" Her emerald eyes were closed in delight as she hopped up and down, and then hugged Cloud so tight that he had to peel her off of him, gasping and struggling. Once he did, she looked him up and over with a frown on her face. "Hey," she said suspiciously, tapping her chin. "You never gave me YOUR jacket!" As she advanced towards him, Cloud quickly cleared his throat and pointed roughly towards The Majestic.
"L-look! They're going in!" he said, attempting to take her wrathful gaze off of himself. She let out a girlish giggle and spun around, watching with intense eyes as they entered the theatre.
"This is so exciting!"
----~----
"This is so exciting!" Yuffie looked around with wide eyes at the opera- like curtain that flounced delicately about the stage frame and then at the balconies attached to the walls seemingly seamlessly. The mezzanine was already overrun with people, and she grasped Squall's wrist firmly as she tugged him through the rows of seats and to the left-wing orchestra. She squinted at the tickets and found the seats quick enough, pushing Squall down beside her and hopping happily into the next seat. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, as he often did when nervous, and looked around with apprehensive eyes. "I know you're not a crowd man, but this is so neat!" Yuffie leaned forward in her seat and examined what looked like baggage that was tossed around on the stage.
"Yeah, but, Yuffie . . . don't you think we're kind of . . . close?" he murmured, feeling uncomfortable with having the orchestra pit right in front of him, the very top of the conductor's head just visible. She clasped his hand excitedly, and he managed a weak smile.
"No way! This is awesome!" she said with true enjoyment in her voice, looking around at the rapidly depleting seats. Squall shook his head and thumbed through the playbill, having gotten over the curiosity of seeing just a plain white mask against black on the cover.
"Add for 'The Hours', add for Estee Lauder, add for Lord and Taylor . . . finally, the cast," he mumbled under his breath, trying not to hiss through clenched teeth as a few people made remarks about 'the girl with a man' in the front row. "Hey, Yuffie, the Phantom's Howard McGillin. Ever heard of him?" He turned to the eighteen-year-old, who had dropped her excitement and was seated tightly with her arms folded and her eyes turned down in anger. "Yuffie?" he asked hesitantly.
"Do y'hear what they're saying? They think you've abducted me or something!" she hissed at him, and he saw tears in her eyes. It took him aback, and he put a hand on her bare arm, his coat over her shoulders. She looked up at him, confused.
"Don't listen to them. They don't know what they're talking about, so ignore them. We're just fine, and you came here by your free will - well, maybe Aerith forced us into it, but besides that - so just . . . ignore them. It's alright," he said softly, and it took a moment, but she grinned up at him. And, after five seconds, she threw her arms around his neck and laughed into his hair. The people behind them let out soft sounds of shock, but Yuffie's eyes were closed in happiness, and she did not see their appalled faces.
"You know, for a minute there, you sounded like you had a heart!" she said softly, and she heard him whisper back: "Who says I don't?"
Just as Yuffie was about to respond, the lights flickered, indicating that the show would begin soon. They broke apart - both surprised to see the other move away reluctantly - and took their seats again.
The show went without a hitch - it performed spectacularly, from the music to the Phantom bopping around the stage carvings and the chandelier sparking as it rose to the ceiling, and even Squall couldn't say that he didn't enjoy it. Yuffie was bouncing around trying to recite the lyrics from Music of the Night when they exited The Majestic, and Squall was trying to restrain his yawns.
"It is twelve o'clock on a Saturday night . . . this is waaay past the time I drop off . . ." he muttered, maneuvering down West 44th Street with Yuffie clinging to his arm.
"W-wait! Squall, stop, hold on a second!" the eighteen-year-old drove her heels into the street to stop her escort just a few feet down from The Majestic, and he turned to her with an exasperated expression.
"What is it now?" he moaned, shifting both playbills into his back pants pocket since Yuffie wore his jacket. She fought to find the right words, and then gave up with a grin.
"Uh . . . I don't suppose you could bend down?" she asked hesitantly. He looked at her oddly.
"No," he responded. She huffed a bit and then realized that her boots helped a lot, and, after taking a deep breath, wrapped her arms around his neck, rose herself up on her toes, and kissed him squarely.
----~----
Finally! It's been long enough o.0 Okay, let me run something off: I did see Phantom of the Opera, but it was way back in December '02 during Christmas break, so I used my playbills, which might be out-of-date, although I don't know. But yes, everything should be fairly accurate . . . the opera curtain around the stage comes down to reveal golden carvings, the chandelier sparks and is pulled up to the ceiling, and, if you haven't guessed already, Music of the Night is my favorite song from the show. Hehe, afterwards we got to see Paul Newman coming out of Our Town, which was fun. We have his autograph on one playbill or another, somewhere . . . hmmm . . .
In case anyone's interested, these are the shows I've seen, so anything suggested from them should be fairly true:
Beauty and the Beast (for my birthday; VL! It was good, especially the ending; orchestra seats _rule_)
The Producers (with Nathan Lane and Mathew Broderick; lots of fun and Jewish humor)
The Crucible
The Phantom of the Opera
Aida
Cabaret (hmmm . . . why didn't they go see that? I dunno, that was really peppy . . .)
There you have it. Anyway, maybe one or two more chapters after this; this was sort of the climax, so to speak. And it was looong! So review! Please! I mean, it took the entire Two Towers soundtrack to write it! (on Gollum's Song, the last song, right now).